A Little Game of Backstabbing
by Carlee Tobin
Summary: Four vermin leaders; four targets; four plans created to kill: all necessary to play a little game of backstabbing. Literally.
1. A Good Day for Backstabbing

**.:Prologue:.**

**A Good Day for Backstabbing**

Lord Switchblade sat at the long stone table in the Once-great Hall of Redwall Abbey, staring at the quaintly-arranged place settings before every chair. Redwall had finally met its match, and had been conquered once and for all. With the joined forces of Lord Switchblade's own horde, King Kelcross Greeneyes's army, Captain Lii's corsair crew, and Mangeclaw's horde, the defenders of the Abbey had no chance of victory.

The warlord rat adjusted the war helmet on his head importantly, waiting for the other leaders' arrival. Dressed from head to toe in gleaming silver armor, a purple cloak billowing behind him, Lord Switchblade wasn't a beast to be trifled with. The spotless silver blade of the sword that hung from his belt glinted in the tinted sunlight that shone through the stained-glass windows.

It was an odd thing, the warlord thought; vermin working together. Usually these attempts of forming alliances between vermin leaders didn't bode well for those involved. The rat narrowed his eyes. In fact, who was to say these vermin leaders were any different? They were just as likely to turn on him as anyone else, or claim the spoils of Redwall theirs.

The rat's mind was quickly jerked out of its train of thought as the Abbey's main doors creaked painfully open and two beasts strode in. One was a wildcat, his fur a dusty brown color broken by jagged tabby stripes. The wildcat wore a bejeweled crown and a feather-lined golden cape, and from his neck and wrists hung sparkling gold and gems. He looked every inch a king.

The other beast, in comparison, looked ragged and dull: a black ferretmaid dressed in a deep-brick-red-colored tunic stood beside the wildcat, a distrustful look on her face. She wore a black leather belt from which two daggers hung on either side and a pair of deep brown leather boots. The majority of her tail was covered in dark red cloth held together by gold buttons; an eye patch covered her left eye, short curly black head-fur rolling off of her shoulders.

The ferretmaid walked up to Lord Switchblade and offered a paw, which he did not shake. He only gave both the ferretmaid and wildcat a cold, steely glare and a small dip of his head. The wildcat looked a little taken aback by this gesture, but Lord Switchblade took no notice. These beasts couldn't be trusted, and they needed to recognize a leader when they saw one.

"Welcome, Kelcross Greeneyes," the warlord said, nodding toward the wildcat, who looked further offended by the omission of this royal title, "Lii," he continued, nodding at the ferretmaid, who returned the gesture. The rat frowned and gazed about the room, looking for something that most obviously wasn't there. "Do you know where Mangeclaw is?"

King Kelcross and Lii exchanged a quick glance at each other. "No," they answered simultaneously, facing Lord Switchblade once more.

The warlord's mouth twisted into a snarl. "What a pity. I had been looking forward to seeing that no-good coward's face for the first time."

Mangeclaw. That horde leader was quite a mystery. Only his stoat messenger had ever been present at the war meetings, cowering and whimpering piteously in a corner in the presence of such powerful and fierce leaders. Some representative _that _stoat turned out to be. No, Mangeclaw had kept his sorry hide hidden and out of battle for the entire war. Lord Switchblade felt a sour taste on his tongue every time he thought about that lousy vermin.

Suddenly the Abbey doors groaned open once more, making everyone there freeze, this time announcing the presence of a small rat, wearing nothing more than a ragged blue tunic; a quiver of arrows and a bow slung over its back, a gold hoop earring dangling from one ear.

The rat spat on the sandstone floor and sat down at the end of the stone table. After waiting impatiently in the stunned silence of the room for a few moments, the rat finally said, "Well? Wot're ya'll waitin' for? A jugglin' perform'nce or somethin'? 'Cus lemme tell you, I've never touched one o' 'em jugglin' balls in me entire life."

Lii got over her shock first. "And who're you, matey?" she said, bristling. "Yer no mess'nger stoat."

The rat shot her a scathing glare. "'Course 'm not. D'yeh 'spect a horde leader to be a simple li'l mess'nger stoat?" The rat turned away from Lii and laid back in its chair, picking lazily at yellowed teeth. "Nah, 'm Mangeclaw, the one 'n' only. Shoulda 'spected some trouble with you lot, though, wot with my skippin' all of yer fancy li'l war meetin's."

Lord Switchblade narrowed his eyes at the disgraceful rat. "How do we know that you're the real Mangeclaw? You could be a woodlander spy posing as him!"

The small rat threw back its head and laughed so hard Lord Switchblade thought its lungs would burst. "'Him?' '_Him_?' Well, there yeh have it; tha's how yeh bungle-'eads can tell 'm the real Mangeclaw, true as true c'n be. See, an' 'ears th' funny part, Mangeclaw isn't a _'im_. Mangeclaw is a _girl_, an' I'm Mangeclaw, cross me 'eart and 'ope t' roast yer own on a stick."

All the leaders looked very surprised indeed by this new development. Mangeclaw? A _girl_?

Lord Switchblade snorted, attempting to use snobbery to cover up his mistake. "A crude name for a crude rat, don't you agree? Mangeclaw is a name fit for a _warlord's_ _minion_, not for a horde leader, I think." Lord Switchblade sneered menacingly, revealing sharp, pointed white teeth.

Mangeclaw glowered at the other rat. "Yeh know wot? I _wos _a warlord's minion once. His ruling di'n't stick with me right, though, so I shot 'im dead. Maybe, if yeh play yer cards ri' aroun' me, yeh won't hafta join 'im."

Lord Switchblade wrinkled his nose in disgust, but said nothing.

"Right!" King Kelcross said, a little irritably, as he clasped his large paws together rather loudly. "Let's get on with this already. I thought we were here to divide the riches of Redwall among ourselves, not squabble like little brats over strawberry cordial."

Lord Switchblade straightened himself and slightly turned up his large muzzle in Mangeclaw's direction. "You're correct, Kelcross; Mangeclaw should learn to mind her tongue when speaking to her betters."

"Hey!" Mangeclaw snarled, losing her repose at the warlord's last insult. She grabbed up a spoon in front of her and was about to throw it at Switchblade when Lii grabbed the smaller rat's arm and gripped it tightly, narrowing her eyes at the female rat.

"Don't, lassie, or yeh'll have me ta answer to," Lii growled, letting go of Mangeclaw's arm and watching her place the spoon back in its original spot. Both ferret and rat glared at each other, neither one daring to blink or look away.

King Kelcross was getting impatient with these bickering beasts; it was obvious from the look on his face. He stood and coughed at an obnoxiously loud decibel, the sound echoing off of the walls and ceiling of the Great Hall. Lii and Mangeclaw looked up, alarmed at first, but regained their composure as King Kelcross spoke. "We have many things to discuss and if we continuously argue with each other, we will gain nothing." Seating himself, King Kelcross paused before continuing. "So. Shall we begin?"

Lord Switchblade cleared his throat. "Right then; let's go about with our business. Any suggestions on how to divide the spoils of war? Redwall doesn't keep any gold within its walls, but it does contain a hefty amount of other valuables. How can we make sure everyone gets a fair share when the worth of each item is different?"

Lii licked her lips in a hungry manner, but it wasn't of want for food. "Ah, good ol' booty. Can't wait to get me hands on some o' that stuff. Maybe we could divide it the way us pirates do, eh? Jus' gather all th' valu'bles toget'er an' give every'n as fair a share as possible. Tha's the only way ta do it, really."

King Kelcross nodded in an arrogant way and said in a grudging tone, "Yes, I agree with Lii. But, of course, you all know that I must have a bigger share than the rest of you minors; I am a king after all, and my army _was _the biggest contribution to our league. I'm sure you won't have any disagreements about that."

"You're wrong, Kelcross, because I _do_," Lord Switchblade said, fuming as he stood, placing his paws on the cold stone table.

"Yeah!" Lii said angrily, standing now as well. "Are yeh honestly sayin' my corsairs di'n't do as good o' a job as yer posh little soldiers did? 'Cus jus' one corsair o' mine is a lot more skilled than all o' yer soldiers put toget'er!"

"ENOUGH!" King Kelcross bellowed, silencing the others' protests and causing those standing to sit down sullenly. "I can't believe how selfish you are! Denying my brave army their wages–"

Lii interrupted the King without a second thought. "Hold up, hold up! How selfish _we _are? Ever stop ta think abou' how selfish _yeh _are? Just how much of yer 'poor, brave army's wages' goes to _yeh _then? Ninety percent? Or per'aps a humble li'l ninety-nine point nine?"

King Kelcross curled his lip in disgust and was about to retort when Lord Switchblade spoke up. "Yes, yes, we all know Kelcross is a greedy little prince, but we have more pressing matters to discuss; such as who will claim leadership over Redwall. I, personally, find myself fitting for the job, seeing as our dear friend _Kelcross _here has had his head up in the clouds one time too many. Being a war_lord_, I believe the ownership of Redwall is rightfully mine."

"What?!" King Kelcross, Lii, and even Mangeclaw, who had been very silent up until now, exclaimed in unison.

Mangeclaw stood up now. "Look 'ere, yeh fat'eaded an' jus', well, _fat _li'l warlord; Redwall b'longs to no one, _especially _not teh _you_. If anythin', Redwall b'longs to _all_ o' us; we _all _worked our rumps off ta get ta this point in our battle ag'inst Redwall, an' we are _all _deservin' o' th' leadership o' Redwall, though why any o' you bigheaded honchos would want this wretch'd place is beyond me. All I know is I don't want ta see yeh skippin' off with a new fortress along with yer share o' th' valu'bles an' leavin' us ta our borin' ol' lives o' campin' on th' dirt an' eatin' only wot yeh c'n manage ta find. ...Though King Killy-wutsit mi' not miss a li'l ol' abbey or two, the pig."

Lord Switchblade was the first of the rulers present to react. "'_Fatheaded_'? I am _not_ 'fatheaded'! _You _are the stupid one, you disgrace to the name of all rats! Why seek to uproot the success of a fellow rat? Don't you wish any good fortune at all toward your own kind?"

Mangeclaw snorted. "I sure do, bu' not toward _yeh_, yeh selfish li'l warlord. An' _ooh_! 'm a disgrace t' the name of all rats now, am I? Oh, woe is _me_!" The female rat's last statement was dripping with sarcasm.

Lord Switchblade had had enough by now. "This meeting has been a complete failure! I say we all just leave now, before it gets any worse; I'm tired of looking at your sorry faces and listening to your ridiculous suggestions and whiny protests!" And with that, the rat warlord got up from his seat and stormed out of the Abbey's Great Hall, the door slamming shut behind him.

After a few moments of stunned silence, the other leaders followed Lord Switchblade, giving each other distrustful glares as they made their way into the Abbey grounds and out the Abbey gatehouse door, to where their troops had set up camp.

Each leader went their separate ways. And, after the disastrous meeting, each began to suspect that one of the other leaders was planning their murder; one beast they hadn't particularly gotten along with. The natural thing to do, in their eyes, was to kill their supposed murderer first; thus each leader began their evil scheming that evening, and all of them formed a plan to kill the beast who threatened their life or leadership. They worked deep into the night.

It was a good day for backstabbing.

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**A/N: ********A little game of literal backstabbing.** How, er, "pleasant". Don't even ask how this idea came to me; I don't really know myself. All I remember is thinking suddenly, "Wouldn't it be funny if four vermin leaders joined forces, got into a fight over the spoils of the war they'd won, and then tried to kill each other? ...There's more, but I can't reveal _everything_, now can I?

**Anyway, what do you think of the story so far? Is it good? Is it rotten? Does it smell like a B.O. problem? Do you have a favorite character? ...Just curious. :D**** Feel free to comment or criticize. c:**

******All characters used in this story belong to me. Redwall belongs to Brian Jacques.**

******Cybug**


	2. The Warlord's Plan

**A/N: I'd just like to thank Contrary to Popular Belief, Padra the Otter, Guest (guest) and Quaver Ava for reviewing my story last week. c: Thanks again, guys!  
**

* * *

**.:Chapter One:.**

**The Warlord's Plan**

_Lord Switchblade_

It was a beautiful afternoon; birds twittered and chirped in the trees and flew merrily over vast fields of grass, where little flowers grew. The weather was perfect; the sun pleasantly warm and there was a cool breeze whistling through the leaves of the trees in the nearby forests. The peaceful place showed no signs of the recent war, nor of the plotting of four certain vermin leaders...

Lord Switchblade was in his tent, sharpening his sword with a worn stone. He knew that someone was going to kill him, whether it was today or in a season's time. It had been clear enough that he'd made an enemy out of one of the vermin leaders, and he had a feeling he knew who it was.

Mangeclaw. There was no doubt about it; that rat was going to murder him, just as she had to her own leader once before. Hadn't she made that blatantly obvious when she'd stated that she was perfectly capable of killing warlords and getting away with it? Lord Switchblade hadn't really enjoyed the horde leader's presence in the first place, but she had cast his ideas aside more ruthlessly than the others had, and she insulted him continuously, acting as if he were an underling to her. Ha! Lord Switchblade, the underling? Never! If that nuisance thought she could overthrow him with just a flick of her wrist, she had another thing coming to her.

The warlord lay the rock aside, setting it down on the floor by his makeshift bed of reused cloth and other materials. Lord Switchblade cringed just looking at the filthy mess. What poor conditions one must live in to win a war! But, of course, it had been necessary to leave his fortress life of splendor and leisure in order to keep the unstable alliance in between the four leaders; how would it have been fair for Lii and, admittedly, _Mangeclaw _to travel on foot, while he and Kelcross remained inside their safe castles?

Lord Switchblade's mouth curled into a grimace. Had it even been worth it, in the end? He had given up so much luxury and lost many members of his army to the bloody battle against Redwall. For supposedly "gentle" creatures that led such peaceful lives, their Abbey warriors could really pack a punch; the vermin armies may have won the war, but the Abbeybeasts hadn't gone down without a fight. It hadn't done them any good in the end, though: most of the woodlanders of Redwall were now slaves; that, or they were dead. Kelcross and Lii had given Lord Switchblade a lot of trouble when the time came to divide the slaves amongst the four leaders, Kelcross arguing that he needed more servants, Lii arguing that she needed more slaves for trading purposes. The warlord had been surprised at Mangeclaw's decision to stay out of these particular dealings: then again, what use did a horde leader have for slaves? They were just extra beasts to care for, never mind the fact that their care would be poor.

At least those meetings had gone _well_, though. Valuables and fortresses were of a much bigger game than new servants, which is why Lord Switchblade supposed that was the cause of all the needless quarreling last evening. He admitted, however grudgingly, that he had been a little rash in his actions at the latest conference: perhaps if he had acted differently, he wouldn't have to worry about Mangeclaw putting an arrow through his head.

Lord Switchblade mentally shook himself. No, one must not reminisce on past doings. What's done is done, and there was no turning back; not now, not ever.

The rat snorted to himself. Quite frankly, Mangeclaw had deserved every insult given. That rat had manners and speech that had truly gone to the dogs, though Lii wasn't much better.

"You shall not pass!"

Lord Switchblade's head snapped upwards in the direction of the muffled voice, his eyes narrowing to slits as he listened carefully to what was going on outside his tent.

"Bu' I need t' see Lii an' this is th' fast'st way t' her grou'ds! 'Tis 'mport'nt inf'rmation I gots t' deliver t' her! Orders o' Mangeclaw 'erself!"

Mangeclaw? Lord Switchblade felt suspicions creep into the back of his mind. This could be a trap of hers to get him killed; he mustn't let everything go as planned... Sweeping up his purple cloak as he rose suddenly, he strode across the area inside his tent to its opening flap, which he pushed aside as he made his way outside, his sword's jeweled hilt grasped firmly in his paw.

There stood the weasel he had posted early that morning to guard the invisible borders that separated each vermin leader's camp, and there before him stood a small, measly stoat whom the warlord recognized, shaking as he pleaded to the weasel guard, who was pointing his spear at him.

The weasel growled. "Mangeclaw's word means nothin' 'round these parts, stoat. Now get yer scrawny little behind out of here before I spear yah!"

The stoat whimpered, but did not move; too stubborn in his dogged loyalty to Mangeclaw to save himself from an early death.

"All righ', scum, yeh asked fer it," the weasel said, and prepared to run the stoat through when:

"HALT!" Lord Switchblade commanded. Upon hearing his leader's voice, the weasel spun around and stood to attention, saluting to his lord.

Lord Switchblade ignored these respectful formalities. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

The weasel was about to reply when the stoat spoke up, his entire body shaking as he gazed into the cruel, cold eyes of the rat warlord towering above him. "L-lord Switchb-blade," he began, his voice quivering, "I wos tol-told by M-Mangeclaw t'– t' inf'rm Lii 'bout a–" The stoat stopped abruptly, clapping his paws over his mouth and looking wide-eyed.

Lord Switchblade turned to the weasel guard, who was still standing stiff and erect by his side. "Pirwain, you are dismissed; go find someone suitable to replace your post, but do not send them over or return here until I give you _direct orders _to do so. Got it?" The warlord snarled menacingly, making the weasel twitch his left ear nervously and the stoat shake harder, if that was possible.

"Y-yes, m'lord!" the weasel guard replied smartly, though he had stuttered a little, and proceeded to leave the scene quickly, sensing that his leader was not in the happiest of moods.

Now the warlord turned his full attention upon the cowering stoat. Lord Switchblade would have laughed at the jumpy, under-sized stoat if not for the seriousness of the situation. "So, Scamp, what is it exactly that _Mangeclaw _sent you out to do? Something about Lii?"

The stoat's eyes flickered from side to side. "Well, sir, yeh see, I c-c'n't really tell yeh tha'. I– It's fer Lii's ears on'y, stuff li' tha'. M-mangeclaw seys tha' no 'un else should know 'bout it."

Lord Switchblade ran the tip of a clawed finger over the sharp side of his sharpened sword lightly. "Is that so? Well, you can tell your old friend Lord Switchblade little secrets like that, eh?"

Scamp shook his head wildly. "A-act'lly, sir," he said slowly, "I can't; Mangeclaw seys–"

The warlord growled, his patience waning fast. "I don't care what Mangeclaw told you! I already _know _what Mangeclaw told you! Stop playing these ridiculous little games, stoat, and tell me what I actually _want _to hear."

"A-an' wot's tha'?" the stoat asked curiously.

Suddenly Scamp found Lord Switchblade's sword at his throat, the tip barely even touching the soft, thin layer of skin and fur that protected his vulnerable trachea. The stoat swallowed nervously.

"Now," said Lord Switchblade in a dangerously soft tone, "tell me; what is it that Mangeclaw wants you to tell Lii?"

Scamp shut his eyes tightly and replied, "Can't tell yah, can't tell–" The stoat stopped talking as Lord Switchblade's sword dug deeper into his neck; not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to draw blood. Upon feeling the small blossom of pain on his neck, the stoat had a sudden change of thought, desperation evident in his shaky voice as he spoke. "A-all ri', all ri'! I'll tell yeh! I'll tell yeh 'bout everythin'! Everythin'!"

Lord Switchblade made a sweeping gesture with his free paw. "Go on..."

The stoat looked slightly pained at defying Mangeclaw's orders, but he revealed what Lord Switchblade wanted to know regardless of this. "W-well, Mangeclaw tol' me she saw a woodl'nder travelin' along our camp bound'ries. She though' it wos suspicious so she tol' me to tell Lii 'bout it an' she also tol' me not t' tell you or King Kelcross 'bout it, but I tol' yeh anyway..." Scamp looked horrified, but Lord Switchblade wasn't sure if it was caused from the fear that there was a sword at his throat, or if it was from the guilt of disobeying his leader's orders.

The warlord gave a small nod of his head and sheathed his sword into the scabbard that hung from his belt. "That will be all; you may go now."

Scamp rubbed his throat, relieved that he was no longer at sword point, though he looked up uncertainly at the warlord after hearing his dismissal. "Um, s-sir? I can't go back jus' yet... Mangeclaw tol' me t' tell Lii 'bout–"

Lord Switchblade grit his teeth angrily: he was growing tired of listening to Scamp's mumbled protests. The stoat had given him the information he wanted and was now of no use to him. "_I _will go inform Lii about the woodlander! _You _will quickly run back to your miserable little horde leader and simply tell her your task has been completed; otherwise, you'll find this sword at your throat once more, except next time I won't be so merciful. Do you get the _point_?"

The stoat nodded furiously and spun around so fast he nearly fell over in his haste to return to his camp. Lord Switchblade watched the stoat's scrawny form retreat into the distance until it blended in with the other members of his horde. The warlord shook his head, wondering why Mangeclaw had ever chosen _that _pathetic excuse for a vermin to be her messenger. The stoat wasn't skilled with any weaponry that Lord Switchblade was aware of and jumped at his own shadow. The rat sneered. Trust a disgrace of a leader like _Mangeclaw_ to make poor decisions like that.

The rat was about to return to his tent when he paused for a moment. Scamp had said something about a woodlander sighting. Should he go investigate? There could truly be a goodbeast spy running around, but it may just be a ruse... In fact, now that he thought about it, why had Mangeclaw wanted to contact Lii? Mangeclaw was an excellent tracker, according to most vermin, so why would she ask some other beast to search for the woodlander for her, or with her? If it was protection or help that she wanted, or if she was too busy to bother with the whole ordeal, then why hadn't she used her own hordebeasts? They were loyal enough.

As the warlord thought, his eyes narrowed. And why wouldn't she want Kelcross and himself to be aware of the possible danger, if there was one at all? Perhaps she was using her messenger stoat to give Lii secret messages and plans, the "woodlander sighting" being an excuse in case Scamp ran into trouble. The warlord should have checked the stoat for anything suspicious. Lord Switchblade cursed aloud. Hellgates, why had he been so stupid?

Lord Switchblade tried reasoning with himself. The stoat couldn't have been carrying a message, because if he had he would have told him about it; Scamp didn't have the guts to lie. Even if the stoat _had _lied to him, if the message carried any importance at all, Scamp wouldn't have returned to Mangeclaw's horde's campsite. He would have just gone the long way around the Abbey to reach Lii.

The warlord's brow furrowed. So was the woodlander sighting a trick or the truth? Seeing as it was Mangeclaw who had supposedly "seen" this woodlander, it was probably a trick, though Lord Switchblade couldn't see how telling Lii about it would affect him... Unless she had purposefully told Scamp to travel through his own encampment in order for the message to reach him? The rat smirked slyly. Mangeclaw couldn't fool him; he was too clever for her. There truly was no goodbeast spy, and now Lord Switchblade could concentrate on killing his to-be murderer.

It wasn't a good thing, however, that Mangeclaw was already trying to kill him before he'd even made his own move. The warlord frowned at this. In fact, if the stoat had acted differently, he might have been led to believe that Mangeclaw's sighting was a real one, and he could have easily fallen into her trap. No, he must take action before Mangeclaw used anymore trickery on him; he could end this easily with a single stab of his polished sword. Lord Switchblade grinned maliciously. It was settled then; today he would rid himself of the insolent rat.

Lord Switchblade strode across the camp grounds, looking for Pirwain and his second-in-command. Finding Pirwain was easy enough; the weasel was drinking some nutbrown ale that had been scavenged from the Abbey's cellar with some fellow mustelids, who were bragging and making fun of each other. Lord Switchblade sneered at these simple-minded fools and their petty little lives. He approached them, listening to Pirwain tell an exaggerated tale about himself.

"–So I said t' 'im, 'Wot's it t' you, mate?' An' 'e goes, 'Tha's it, yer askin' for it,' an'– Oh, er, hey m'lord." Pirwain gave a weak grin upon noticing Lord Switchblade standing before him. One look at the warlord's face told Pirwain that the rat wanted to speak with him. _Now_. Gulping, Pirwain set down his bowl of ale and turned to his friends. "Well, I'll tell ya the rest later; Switchblade needs me."

Lord Switchblade gave the weasel a cold glare. "I believe it is _I _who gives the orders around here, Pirwain. No; we will not go anywhere. I only need to discuss a few things with you."

Pirwain licked his lips nervously; he could tell that he was in hot water. He saluted sharply, hoping to please his warlord and said, "Yessir, wot is it?"

"Did you find a satisfactory replacement to take up your post?" Lord Switchblade asked.

"Er, yessir! I–I think me ol' chum Tekfrel will do nicely, isn't tha' right, Tekky?" Pirwain grabbed the ferret next to him and grinned sheepishly, making it all too obvious that Pirwain had never carried out Lord Switchblade's orders properly and had simply chosen the first vermin that had come to his mind.

Lord Switchblade noticed this but chose to ignore it. "Good. Tekfrel, go to the border of our campgrounds that faces Mangeclaw's horde. That is your post and I expect you to do a good job guarding it." The warlord then turned back to Pirwain, who quailed a little under his steely scowl. "And Pirwain, don't go around stabbing every beast you see; that is a job for me and for me alone, unless I say otherwise."

The warlord took his leave, now searching for his second-in-command; someone would have to keep this rabble lot in line. He could hear Pirwain's friends mocking him for getting reprimanded as he walked away. Shaking his head at their feeble insults, Lord Switchblade continued to wander around, glancing inside one tent after another in his search for his deputy.

Just when the warlord was about to give up, he suddenly heard a voice sound from behind him. "Lookin' fer somethin', chief?"

Lord Switchblade showed no signs of surprise, and calmly turned around to face a burly rat wearing a dark green tunic that appeared to be too small for him. "Where have you been, Foxslayer? I don't remember giving you orders to leave camp."

Foxslayer furrowed his brow, scowling. "How did yah find out 'bout tha'? Warclaw tol' yeh, di'n't he?"

"No, you told me just now: but it doesn't matter, because I had a hunch that was the reason of your absence," Lord Switchblade replied, his tone nonchalant as he examined his claws. Turning his full concentration on his second-in-command he continued, "So, where were you, anyway?"

Foxslayer shuffled his paws uncomfortably. "Oh, I wos nowhere. Jus'– jus' takin' a li'l walk... Nothin' 'mport'nt or anythin'..."

Normally the warlord would've narrowed his eyes at this secretive behavior, but one look at Foxslayer's embarrassed face told him otherwise, causing Lord Switchblade to merely raise an eyebrow and say nothing more on the subject. Clearing his throat he said, "Foxslayer, I need you to take over for me for a while." Foxslayer gave a questioning look and the warlord replied, "Just for the day. I need to attend to some– er, _business_, so to speak."

The burly rat read the warlord's darkened face like an open book. His own face hardened as he gave a small dip of his head and replied, "Yes, m'lord. I'll tell th' others yeh're runnin' a pers'nal errand, then."

Lord Switchblade nodded back. "Good. I must be going now."

"Good luck," Foxslayer called after him as Lord Switchblade strode swiftly out of camp, one paw clasping the unsheathed sword that would soon taste blood once more.

The warlord passed by Kelcross's camp, which separated his camp and Mangeclaw's. All of the tents in Kelcross's encampment were shabby in appearance and patched with different-colored cloth– all but one, that is. The guards that stood outside the clean, intricately-designed tent gave Lord Switchblade leery glares as he walked by, and he returned them with a cold, haughty look.

Lord Switchblade strode onward through the short, green grass toward Mangeclaw's camp. Lord Switchblade weighed his options. He'd have to cast aside his carefully laid out plan he'd created over the course of last night's hours; his previous idea had consisted of multiple strategies that would lead to his to-be murderer's death _over a length of time_. But, now that the horde leader was getting wise to him, he didn't have that time and had to act now or never. He couldn't just walk up to her in broad daylight and stab her, of course; he'd probably need to cause a distraction of some sort... But then there was the problem that she herself might not come to investigate.

As he pondered this, he looked up, now close enough to Mangeclaw's camp to distinguish the species of each member that was up and about. He saw a few weasels, a couple of stoats, the odd ferret and a fox or two, but the majority of the horde consisted of rats. Lord Switchblade nodded to himself. That was the way things should be in a horde; rats were of a higher-caliber than the other species, and the warlord had a slight grudging respect for Mangeclaw's favoring. Better to surround yourself with as many of your own kind as possible, rather than placing yourself amongst incompetent, inferior vermin species.

But there, over on the far side of the campsite... Could it be? Lord Switchblade squinted, using a paw to shield his eyes from the blinding glare of the afternoon sun. There stood Scamp outside of a tent, speaking with Mangeclaw. Lord Switchblade watched as the horde leader picked up a quiver of arrows, which she slung over her shoulder, and a beautifully carved bow that she held in one paw. Lord Switchblade frowned slightly at this suspicious behavior. Mangeclaw was up to something, he could tell. Why didn't she hang the bow over her shoulder as well? The warlord could easily answer this question in mind, and the very thought made him scowl, for it confirmed his hunch: Mangeclaw was going to kill someone, and that someone was _him_.

Mangeclaw exited her campgrounds, unaware that Lord Switchblade was silently and slowly following her as she approached the fields behind Redwall Abbey. There she stayed, her back facing the warlord, who was still quite a distance away from her. Lord Switchblade could laugh he was so happy; fortune was surely on his side!

Suddenly, the thudding sound of running paws sounded from behind him, and Lord Switchblade spun around wildly. There he saw a red squirrel, equipped with a dagger, sprinting across the grassy ground and into the undergrowth of the nearby forest, where it stopped and didn't move, as if trying to hide.

Lord Switchblade's eyes widened with surprise. So there _had _been a woodlander spy after all! Lord Switchblade decided that this spy must be dealt with immediately– who knew when he would ever catch the squirrel again? And you don't want your enemy, however small their group may be, to know your secrets.

The warlord crept into the dense ferns and prickly bushes that grew just outside the forest, approaching the squirrel's hiding place slowly as he unsheathed his sword. He tried to step as soundlessly as possible over the dead leaves and twigs that were scattered about the ground, but he wasn't careful enough; he failed to notice a tree root hiding underneath the close-knit vegetation and tripped over it, his sword flying out of his paw as he fell to the ground with a thud and a groan. Lord Switchblade rubbed his head and got up, just in time to see the squirrel dash up a tree and travel deeper into the forest.

Lord Switchblade growled in frustration and grabbed his sword, ignoring the pain emanating from his bruised chin and sore ribs. Wasting no time, the warlord sprinted after the spy, and was soon amongst beautiful, large trees of many different types, all with the multi-colored leaves of fall. The warlord noticed this and smirked. Squirrels could be a little noisy when traveling through trees with healthy live leaves, but in autumn the leaves were dying or dead, and they made much more noise when brushed against. The warlord, admittedly, wasn't very skilled at tracking, so this natural phenomenon would work to his advantage.

The rat followed the rustling in the leaves and the small glimpses of a red squirrel through empty branches for what felt like hours, and yet the squirrel wouldn't stop. It kept on leaping from tree to tree, and Lord Switchblade was alarmed when he realized he was actually losing the spy; it was getting farther away with every passing minute. Then again, the squirrel didn't have to leap over moss-covered logs blocking its way or worry about crossing the small rivers that ran through Mossflower Woods.

Soon Lord Switchblade couldn't even hear the squirrel's noisy retreat, and he stopped chasing after it, knowing that he'd lost the spy for good. Burning with resentment toward the squirrel, he began to make his way back to camp, hoping that Mangeclaw was still out of her camp and alone, though he doubted it. Then the warlord halted abruptly and felt a cold sort of sinking feeling in his chest. He spun around, and all he saw were trees, nothing but trees in every direction. Lord Switchblade began to panic, cursing his past self for not being more aware of his surroundings. He decided to move in one direction and hope for the best, so he chose one at random and began running.

It wasn't long before the warlord had traveled quite a distance and his run morphed into a fast-paced walk. Lord Switchblade was disappointed at the thought that Mangeclaw's murder would have to wait for another day, but he knew that most likely he was not going to have the chance that he'd had over by the back wall of the Abbey anytime soon. In fact, he'd probably have to revert back to his old plan, which would take longer, but would get the job done efficiently.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Lord Switchblade's feet vanished, and the rat warlord found himself sunk up to his waist in what looked like muddy water. His eyes widened as he realized he was slowly sinking into it.

Quicksand!

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**A/N: All right, so first I'd like to say I'm sorry to those of you that were told this chapter would be posted yesterday. I had a slight writer's block Friday and Saturday that caused all of my paragraphs to become horribly small and lacking in description. :P So I waited it out and finished today– I wrote for two whole hours. xD**

**Anyway, you're probably thinking, "Lord Switchblade's dead," and you're all crossing him off your list of vermin leaders to be killed. You're also probably thinking, "What the (bleep) was that squirrel put in here for?" and you're probably all shaking your heads and saying I'm so stupid for doing something random like that.**

**Heh, but you forget; I worked a whole day on this story with the help of my genius sister. You don't find a whole lot of those, but when you do they can really help you shoot down silly ideas like random squirrels getting warlords into quicksand.**

**Because that's the thing.**

**The squirrel wasn't random.**

***evil laughter***

**Cybug**

**P.S. What did you think of Lord Switchblade? Did you like him? Did you hate him? One of the points of me writing this story was to introduce you guys to some of the villain characters I've created for Redwall, and to see how you like them. Admittedly, everything that happens in this story never happened in my future fics to come (I mean come on, Lord Switchblade's technically dead; I'm not going to do something stupid like have him lead his horde as a ghost, or possess someone x3); it's just a way to see what you think of them and to see what you guys think I should tweak.**

**P.S.S. Foxslayer? In love? But seriously, it's just like the squirrel– it's not random. If I actually start writing my fic with Lord Switchblade in it, it will no longer be random. ...But then again, it won't be love either.**

**Heh heh... Confusing sentence.**


	3. The Horde Leader's Scheme

**Give a big hand to last chapter's reviewers, Contrary to Popular Belief, koryanders, and Padra the Otter! *applause* Thanks for the reviews, guys; we hope to see you back on our show– er, story– soon! ^^**

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**.:Chapter Two:.**

**The Horde Leader's Scheme**

_Mangeclaw_

Mangeclaw was leaning on the back wall of Redwall Abbey, kicking at a little bald patch of dirt surrounded by yellowing blades of grass. She was waiting, as patiently as she could, for Captain Lii to get her over-sized behind over here. Mangeclaw smirked to herself; she had it all planned out, and her plans were going well. Scamp had informed her earlier on that he had given Lii the message. Not even her own apprentice knew that the message was a lie, simply an excuse to get Lii out of her camp and alone. As soon as that ferret showed her ugly head, Mangeclaw was more than ready to fire an arrow through it. The horde leader clutched at the bow clasped in her left paw, tapping her claws against its polished surface to pass the time.

Most horde leaders wouldn't select a bow and arrow for their own choice weapon, for it would mean standing in the back of their fighting horde, and where was the glory in that? Most horde leaders either stayed up in the front of their group or sat back in their war tents and relaxed. Close-range weapons were also good for threatening people with, because a bow was simply lacking the fear a sword to the throat or chest did. Mangeclaw didn't really threaten her horde members at all, unless necessary, and she mostly stayed in her tent, a dagger at paw just in case someone tried to kill her. Besides, she felt at ease with a bow, and using it came to her naturally, one might say.

The female rat shuddered just thinking about someone out to murder her. Well, there was Captain Lii, of course, but the horde leader had made quite a few enemies in the past, and she could even have some possible enemies in her own horde. Rebellion was the reason she herself had killed the previous horde leader, a warlord fox that had gone by the name of Narlgroff. He had been a little prejudiced toward rats and female vermin, claiming that rats were almost too stupid to breathe, and stated that female vermin were weak. Mangeclaw gave another small smirk. Yes, she'd shown him just how weak she was when she'd shot an arrow through his thick head. The fool didn't even have an heir or a second-in-command, mutiny being one of his greatest fears. Now it was Mangeclaw's turn to share that particular fear, haunted by the thought that she would be betrayed and killed, just as she had to Narlgroff.

Why was she doing this again? The rat had been waiting for quite a while now, and Captain Lii was still a no-show. Of course, the ferret could be busy with her own horde; she _was _a captain, after all. In fact, Mangeclaw had to put off her plan earlier that day due to some horde troubles. Still, it wasn't exactly fun to be standing around in the hot rays of the sun. Fanning herself with her free paw nonchalantly, Mangeclaw thought about the last meeting in which she discovered that she was playing the victim in Lii's master plan.

Sure, it had been Lord Switchblade who dished out all of the insults toward her, but the big-headed warlord merely hid behind his own words like the coward he was: it had been Lii who had taken action, grabbing the horde leader's arm when the captain sensed that the female rat's actions would cause trouble to ensue. And the look in Lii's eyes... it had been commanding; in control. Lii obviously thought that she was better than Mangeclaw, both in rank and skill. This behavior had made Mangeclaw suspicious. Was Lii secretly planning to kill her, take over the female rat's horde _and_ her share of the riches? Well, it didn't matter now, really, Mangeclaw decided. The corsair ferret hadn't counted on her little slip up during the meeting, in which she had given all of her intentions away, and now Lii had fallen right into her trap.

The horde leader picked at her claws, bored out of her mind. Sure she had completed step one of her plan, but step two was taking its time with coming around. Then there was step three. Aim and _fire_. Not much of a plan, really, but the simpler a scheme is the more likely it is to work properly. Mangeclaw nodded to herself. Lii would come. Her eyelids drooped and she let out a gaping yawn. But how soon was the real question here. Mangeclaw wasn't feeling the sharpest today, having stayed up later last night than she should have. Mangeclaw frowned. Hopefully she would be able to concentrate on successfully carrying out step three.

Mangeclaw looked behind herself and at her encampment. She was unable to see him from here, but she could tell that Scamp was practicing his archery. The young stoat was actually very skilled with a bow and arrow, even before Mangeclaw had taken him on as her apprentice. His only problem was that he was probably the most cowardly vermin she knew, and he was too loyal: he tried to seek leadership in others, depending on them. The stoat was sort of like a challenge for Mangeclaw, in that sense. In fact, his true potential with weaponry might shine once she cracked his easily-frightened outer shell. The horde leader knew that archery was a good choice for a vermin that was scared of others, but it wouldn't hurt if Scamp could learn how to defend himself with a dagger, or maybe a sword, as well.

A sudden noise to her right made Mangeclaw's gaze snap to a thick patch of vegetation just outside of the forest. She could see the bushes shaking as a large form slunk on the other side of them. The horde leader narrowed her eyes. Could that possibly be Lii? No, the shape was too big to be her. That, however, didn't mean that it wasn't one of Lii's corsairs. Whoever it was, Mangeclaw thought as she slung her bow over her shoulder, they weren't very good at stealth.

The rustling began to fade away, and this signaled to Mangeclaw that her possible enemy was either sneaking off or waiting in a crouch. "Hmm," she murmured, debating with herself. Should she go investigate the intruder, or should she stay here and wait for Captain Lii? It was a little risky because if the mysterious beast was armed in any way, which it most likely was, Mangeclaw would have to use close-range weaponry. She would be out of her comfort zone, and for what? No, it might just be best if she just stayed put for the time being. This "intruder" might just be an everyday songbird, or some other harmless creature. There was absolutely no way she was going to risk destroying her entire plan for the sake of hunting down whatever was hiding in the shrubbery.

Suddenly, something rose out of the bushes near the edge of the woodlands and Mangeclaw's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the beast. It was the wildcat king, Kelcross; but what was he doing out here? Were posh little kings usually found wandering about in the undergrowth? The horde leader didn't miss the silver object that glinted in the sun, resting on King Kelcross's shoulder; it was a double-headed axe. Mangeclaw narrowed her eyes. What was King Kelcross doing out of his encampment, armed? Mangeclaw furrowed her brow, puzzled. Surely he wasn't sent by Lii to assassinate herself? ...No, of course not. The two beasts hadn't gotten along at _all _in the meeting, so what would possibly be able to give them the drive to work together?

Still, it was odd for a king to be walking about unguarded; not to mention with a weapon. Who takes their double-headed axe for a little walk? Mangeclaw smiled to herself at the thought.

King Kelcross slunk back into the cover of the dense vegetation. The female rat frowned. The wildcat king was acting very suspicious indeed, though he obviously wasn't targeting her. She could tell by his behavior that he was... _searching _for something– or rather, some_one_.

Mangeclaw peeled herself from the Abbey wall, took a few steps forward, and looked over her shoulder. The horde leader had the feeling that Lii wasn't going to show up anytime soon, and was most likely too swamped with her own problems to come and investigate Mangeclaw's supposed "sighting". In fact, seeing as Lii was taking this long to arrive at the scene, the ferret would probably just send one of her corsairs over rather than come in person and waste precious time. Mangeclaw slapped her face with a paw, her new realizations completely tearing her "grand scheme" apart limb from limb. Maybe it would be better to see what had King Kelcross so crazed and out of his oh-so-special tent instead of standing around waiting for something that would never take place.

...Besides, she was bored.

The rat grinned as she flicked a dagger out of the belt around her tunic with masterful ease. The trees of Mossflower woods did _not _grow sparsely, which rendered her skills with archery useless. If this little game morphed into an ugly fight, she would probably be too close to the wildcat to be able to fire her bow. Mangeclaw was smaller and more agile than her pampered enemy. If things came to the worst, this dagger would be her only hope. Besides, she had taken on bigger enemies with her trusty dagger. Maybe the horde leader wasn't the best at using close-range weapons, but that didn't mean she wasn't capable of using them at _all_. Feeling full of confidence, Mangeclaw stealthily made her way to the edge of the forest, creeping through the thick tangle of brush with more ease and efficiency than the wildcat had.

And so Mangeclaw began to follow the king through the forest; it hadn't taken her long to catch up to him, as he moved a bit slow, acting extremely cautious with every step, this behavior arousing the female rat's curiosity even more. The more Mangeclaw followed him, the more it seemed that he was, in fact, tracking someone. He would scent the air and use his excellent feline sense of smell to follow an invisible trail, occasionally stopping here and there to peer at and investigate disturbances on the earthen forest ground. Mangeclaw, being a master tracker herself, could quite plainly see that this was more than a lost family heirloom or prized treasure; this was a hunt, and King Kelcross was the hunter.

The horde leader narrowed her eyes. But who was the prey in question? It was definitely not herself because, unless the wildcat was truly hopeless at tracking, he would have tried to kill her when she was by the Abbey wall. Could it possibly be one of the other leaders? The small, seemingly harmless self-aimed inquiry caused Mangeclaw's eyes to widened. _Wait a second_, she thought, a theory forming in her mind. _I be__lieve that Captain Lii is out to kill me, and here King Kelcross is tracking someone. He's armed too, so he surely has someone's death wish on the mind... But Lii is in her tent, I would know: Scamp told me that he delivered the message to her successfully. What about Lord Switchblade? _Mangeclaw desperately tried to recall the happenings of the last day's meeting. She frowned. Nothing had really gone on between the two; maybe an exchange of insults here and there, but Lii had done the majority of the arguing against him. _Against him... Wait a minute... Of course! _Mangeclaw nearly gasped. This whole thing was a complete goose chase, wasn't it? All this time they had been–

A sudden disturbance to Mangeclaw's left wrenched her out of her thoughts. She looked around, slightly dazed, before cursing. King Kelcross was no where to be seen! And if her suspicion was correct, it was necessary to alert the other leaders of her realization before things went out of hand. Then the rustling sound came again, making Mangeclaw frown. Was that King Kelcross? How long had she been hiding in this underbrush, lost in her thoughts?

She looked at the dappled tree leaves on her left. The strange noises were coming from up there, if she was hearing things correctly. But what would the wildcat be doing in a tree?

It was then that a red squirrel hopped out of the trees, landing on both hind legs as he hit the ground. The squirrel dusted himself off casually, flicking dead, browning leaves off of his black, tight-fitting wear. Mangeclaw glared at him. That was clothing generally used by spies and assassins. The rat could almost laugh at the irony; earlier she had set up a ruse revolving around the idea that a hostile squirrel was running about, and here her "fake" intruder was, as real as the forest around her!

"Eh, stupid vermin, chasin' me like I was sum kind o' pathetic woodlander," the squirrel said irritably, muttering to himself. "'E made me lose complete track o' tha' flea-ridd'n woildcat. Least he wos no good at runnin', aye?"

Mangeclaw made her move, throwing her dagger with deadly precision at the squirrel's right leg. Upon contact with the weapon, the squirrel gasped, falling to his knees as he clutched at his bleeding knee, quickly wrenching out the small, sharp weapon. He looked around cautiously, bloody dagger at hand. "'Oo's thar?" he demanded, gritting his teeth.

"If yeh don't mind," Mangeclaw spoke up from the shadows, "Oi'd like m' dagger back." She leaped from the bushes and, before the squirrel could react, kneed him in the stomach and pinned him to the nearby tree, grabbing him by the collar of his pitch-black long-sleeved shirt. As he opened and closed his mouth, trying to get air into his winded lungs, Mangeclaw snatched her dagger out of his half-clenched fist, smirking.

"So h'llo," she continued as she pocketed the dagger. "M' name's Mangeclaw."

The squirrel took in a giant gulp of air and said in a hoarse, faint voice, "I-I'm C-casper." His eyes flashed and his arm went for his belt, from which a small scabbard hung. Mangeclaw's eyes followed the movement and she caught the squirrel's wrist just as he began pulling out his own dagger. She twisted his wrist sharply, causing him to gasp in pain, and his weak hold on the weapon further loosened and caused him to drop the weapon. It landed with a dull thud on the ground.

Mangeclaw grinned, having forgotten how fun it was to take on an unsuspecting beast. This spy or assassin or whatever-he-was wasn't very smart, was he? The squirrel had already given her his name, which gave her information about who he really was. He could have lied about his name, but the way he had said it hinted to Mangeclaw that he was telling the truth. The horde leader felt ecstatic; this was one of the easier ones.

"Well then, Casper, wot brings yeh t' this dreary-lookin' place? Perhaps yeh're goin' on a li'l picnic with some mousie friends, hm?"

Casper coughed before scowling at her. "Arrrgh, 'mouse friends'? Don't be ridiculous, ye ugly lassie. I is on 'mportant business t' kill th' wick'd woildcat, Kin' Kelcruss."

"Ooh, yeh're gonna regret callin' me ugly, yeh li'l buck-toothed scarecrow," Mangeclaw retorted, extremely disliking that little shot at her looks. So maybe she hadn't taken a bath in a while and probably hadn't brushed her teeth or fur since she was born. That didn't necessarily make her _ugly_. Maybe a little unhygienic, but definitely not _ugly_.

Casper grinned at her, knowing he'd hit a soft spot. "Ye _are _ugly though; I mean, look a' them _ears_! Nibbled t' pieces! An' don' get me started on ye _breath_! Foul, 'tis, very fou– urk!"

Suddenly the squirrel's collar, still clenched in Mangeclaw's fist, met his chin, pinning the top of his head to the trunk of the tree. He looked back at Mangeclaw a little wild-eyed, clearly startled.

Mangeclaw thrust her face into his, speaking through gritted teeth as she stared him down with a piercing glare. "Cut it out with th' insults, or I'll cut off yer _head_." The squirrel mumbled his hasty consent and the rat continued. "Good. Now, why were yeh chasin' a'ter th' wildcat king, exac'ly?"

The squirrel shrugged, serious now. "I wos jist doin' me job, yeh know? I don' really question th' orders giv'n t' me, I jist carry 'em out. If sumun needs t' be got'n rid of, ye call fer me." The squirrel pointed at himself with a bloodied paw for emphasis.

"Well then, I guess a more 'ppropriate thing t' ask is; who do yeh work fer?"

Casper looked nervous. "Well, I work fer Cap–"

"I knew it! O' course!" Mangeclaw exclaimed, her gaze drifting off from her squirrel captive to a patch of brush in the distance.

The squirrel apparently disliked the interruption. "Ye rats! Always so 'mpulsive! Firs' tha' stupid wannabe-warlord chasin' me willy-nilly through th' woods, an' now this! Never liked rats, much. I always say, 'a rat...'"

The rest of Casper's words, however, were lost to Mangeclaw's ears. She felt frozen to the spot, Casper's last few words echoing through her mind. Her eyes slowly traveled back to the squirrel. "T-this other rat... Wot did 'e look like, exac'ly?"

Casper snorted. "'E wos wearin' sum sorta stupid war 'elmet er sumthin'. I' looked like a skull of sum sort, act'ally. Huh, a bit uncomfort'ble-lookin' as well. Th' thin' wos GIGANTIC, me swears–"

Mangeclaw kicked the squirrel's bleeding leg, growing impatient. "Get on with i', scumbag! I haven' got all day!"

Casper scowled weakly, trying to hide the pain she had inflicted on him. "Stupid _rats_," he muttered under his breath before continuing at a normal speaking volume. "'E wos wearin' a purple cape and 'e had grey fur. ...Oh, 'e wos carryin' a sword 'round too. Dunno why, though. Maybe sumun stole 'is li'l dollie." The squirrel snickered at his own joke.

"Shut up, yeh bucktoothed fat-'ead," Mangeclaw snapped, her head pounding. _Gaah, stupid Switchblade! What reason did he have for running off into the woods like that? _she thought, frustrated. "Where is 'e now?" she asked the squirrel. "Is 'e back a' camp?"

The assassin shrugged. "I woul'n't know, me matey. We traveled deep inta th' woods, an' I event'ally lost 'im, so who knows where 'e is now? Could still be in th' forest, act'ally. Judgin' by how 'e never managed t' catch up wi' me again, 'e is proba'lly as lost as a four-leafed clo'er in a field, lass."

Mangeclaw slapped her face with her free paw. It was embarrassing to know she was of the same species as that thick-head. He didn't even know how to track a squirrel or find his way back home? Some warlord _he _turned out to be. Still, it was important that she found him. If she was correct, which she almost always was, Lord Switchblade was the only leader with enough power to keep King Kelcross in line. Without him in the way, King Kelcross would believe he could split up the riches however he pleased, which would lead to nothing but bloodshed, no doubt. But while egotistical Switchblade was around, all the leaders could keep their heads. Maybe Lord Switchblade wasn't a king, but he treated himself like one. And, as much as Mangeclaw hated to admit it, Lord Switchblade was skilled at sword fighting; more so than Kelcross was with his axe. Kelcross knew this, which made him cautious not to get on Switchblade's nerves to the point where they agree to a duel. He mustn't be very happy about the odd truth of it all, but he knew it all the same.

"So cin I go now? Ye know, cin ye release me? 'Cos this bark is sorta scratchy." The squirrel's question broke the silence, jerking Mangeclaw back into reality.

She frowned. She couldn't just let the assassin go; he'd try to kill King Kelcross, and that would upset the delicate balance that held this fragile alliance together. She smirked as an idea came to her, and she pulled an arrow out of her quiver with her free paw.

"Wot're ye doin'?" Casper squeaked, alarmed.

"Just shaddup and stand spreadeagled, will yah?" Mangeclaw said impatiently, tightening her grip on his collar.

Casper gave a small gulp. "All ri', look; I'm doin' it..." he said unhappily. He stood with his arms and legs outstretched, complaining all the time. "–rats, always tryin' t' show ye they're better; well, she hasn' seen nothin' yet, I'll show her, yes sirree–"

He shut up, however, when Mangeclaw thrust her arrow deep into the sleeve of his clothing near his left hand, being mindful of his actual limb, pinning his arm to the tree. She repeated this for his other arm and legs too, standing back and smiling when she was done.

Casper looked at his left arm with disappointment. "Now tha's goin' t' leave _holes _in me clothing, ain't it?" he said sadly. He looked forward and saw Mangeclaw trudging off. "'EY!" he called. "MUCKCLAW! _'EY! _WHERE ARE YE OFF TO? DON' _LEAVE _ME HERE!"

Mangeclaw pretended not to hear him, but she couldn't suppress the smile that formed on her lips as she heard him yelling after her, getting desperate now.

"MELLOWKILL! OI THERE, LASSIE! YE LEFT WITHOUT SAYIN' G'BYE!"

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Mangeclaw traveled through the lush, autumn forest. But this time she wasn't tracking King Kelcross; this time, she was tracking Lord Switchblade. If the rat truly hadn't returned to camp, who knows where he was now. He could be halfway to Salamandastron by now, the nitwit. It might have been a good idea to ask Casper where he'd lost Lord Switchblade, but she doubted the squirrel would have known the exact location. No, she was just going to have to play this game the brainy way.

First she'd have to return to the encampments, which required only common knowledge. Mangeclaw had studied maps of Mossflower for reasons of war, and knew that Mossflower woods was generally east of Redwall Abbey. She also knew that moss always grew on tree trunks so that it faced north. So, judging by the fact that the moss growing on the trees was pointing in the direction of her right, she was traveling along the correct route.

She picked up her pace, knowing that she mustn't tarry, but she didn't go too fast. Who knew what lay in the thick tangles and dark corners of these vast woods?

In the meantime, she could enjoy the fresh autumn air and the peaceful rustling of the tree leaves above. It was so quiet here... Too bad she had to see if Lord Switchblade's butt needed saving. She sighed wistfully. Sometimes, leadership wasn't all it was cooked up to be. The horde leader gave a crooked smile. But it sure beat carrying out Narlgroff's every need and whim.

Eventually, the thick tree trunks thinned out and become slimmer, revealing younger trees. The bushes and ferns began to grow more dense, packing together in thick huddles of greens and browns. It wasn't long before the cover of the trees broke and Mangeclaw found herself bathed in sunlight, the shade and coolness of the forest giving way to the warm, sunny meadows. Further up ahead, Mangeclaw could spot the camps.

The female rat quickly approached them, running now. No more time could be wasted; she had lost enough as it was. She finally came to a stop at Lord Switchblade's encampment, and walked up to the guard standing at the border, slowing her pace so that she didn't alarm him.

"H'lo," she said, waving a paw at the guard to show she was friendly.

He grunted miserably in reply.

Mangeclaw scrunched up her nose at his rude behavior. "All ri' then," she decided, "if you won' be nice, I won' be either. I came t' see if Lord Switchblade wos in. Is he?"

The guard looked up at her, revealing the masked face of a ferret. "An' you would be...?"

"Mangeclaw, leader o' th' horde o'er yonder, stupid," she replied. Guards these days. Always asking nosy questions.

The guard shrugged. "No need t' be nasty 'bout it. An' no, Lord Switchblade's not here. Said he had t' run a person'l errand er sumthin'. Hogwash, in my 'pinion, but my 'pinion doesn' amount t' much."

The horde leader nodded curtly, ignoring the ferret's last remark. "All ri' then, thanks anyway." She turned around and made way to the edge of the forest; time to track down Lord Switchblade. If she was right, then he entered the forest somewhere near his campsite. It wasn't the most definite possibility, but it was the most likely.

Tekfrel stood at his post, alone again, but completely bewildered. "No un ever said 'thanks' t' me before..." he mumbled.

* * *

"Oh Switchblade, Switchblade, Switchblade," Mangeclaw muttered under her breath, feeling hopeless as she followed the warlord's scent trail. Naturally most beasts have a keen sense of smell, which gives them an advantage in the field of tracking. It seemed, however, that some beasts were still hopeless at it, namely one certain Lord Switchblade. Casper had said he had lost the warlord, but he forgot to mention how well. The horde leader had been walking through this wretched forest for what felt like hours, and there was still no sign of the rat.

What kind of a beast does this sort of thing anyway, leaping into forests with absolutely no woodland knowledge at all? Obviously he did. Mangeclaw sighed, feeling miserable. She had a sickening feeling that she would have to carefully comb ever inch of this forsaken forest before she found head or tail of the warlord.

_I wonder if King Kelcross is lost as well_, she thought miserably. Well, there was one beast she wouldn't mind losing. It was all his fault this happened, really. The majority of the arguing had spawned from his selfish suggestion, getting it into Lord Switchblade's head that he could take more treasure for himself and leave the others with smaller shares. The next time she saw that wildcat, she was going to give him a nice slap in the face.

"HELP!"

Mangeclaw looked around wildly, snapping out of her daze. Who had said that? They sounded close.

"Auugghh why me? ...HELP!"

The horde leader pinpointed where the sound was coming from and went to investigate, noting that the soil felt moister beneath her hind paws as she continued onward. She parted aside some dangling broken tree limbs and let out a strangled gasp at what she now saw before her.

There was Lord Switchblade, up to his chest in murky water. He struggled in it and tried desperately to free himself, yet he just sunk slowly further into the depths of the quicksand with every movement. He apparently hadn't seen her yet, because he was still trying to call for help.

"Don' struggle!" Mangeclaw suddenly called out to him. "Wotever yeh do, don' struggle: yeh'll jus' sink faster!"

Lord Switchblade looked up at her wild-eyed. "Tying to kill me, eh? 'Don't struggle'," he mocked. "That doesn't make any sense at all! How will I get out of here if– AUUGHH!" The dirty water was up to his throat now.

"Quit wastin' time!" Mangeclaw snapped. "Jus' do it while I fin' sumthin' fer yeh to hold onto." She hastily raced off, looking around for something that would help. She could hear Lord Switchblade screaming behind her.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON'T LEAVE! I'M GOING TO _DIE!_"

"Shaddup, yeh miserable pig," she said to herself, annoyed with the warlord. He just _had _to get himself stuck in some quicksand, didn't he? She searched fruitlessly for a good, sturdy object before thinking of one she had seen earlier. "Aha!" she exclaimed, and she ran back to the quicksand area, mindful of any other pools lying around. Finally she found the hanging tree branches that she had pushed away just minutes ago. It looked like something large had landed on the tangle of boughs, causing some to nearly snap off under the weight of it.

The horde leader broke one of the thicker, longer branches off, and quickly went back to where she had last seen Lord Switchblade. ...Actually, she couldn't hear his cries of help anymore... Was he...?

She gave a triumphant smirk as she stood cautiously by the edge of the quicksand pool. "Well well well, looks like we'll have t' listen t' Mangie a lo' more from now on, aye?" she said to Lord Switchblade, who was now floating on his back in the murky pool.

He glared at her. "I was desperate, okay? Don't expect me to listen to you again, you foul-mouthed git."

Mangeclaw promptly stuck her tongue out at him. "Look, mistah big-shot, I'm no' th' one stuck in th' muck, so I'd watch me _own_ mouth if I were you."

Lord Switchblade muttered something under his breath but did not shoot back with a snappy retort. "Now what?" he asked, somewhat grumpily.

"Here," Mangeclaw said as she offered the warlord the opposite end of the bough she was holding onto. "Take hold o' this an' I'll pull yeh out. Jus' remember; _relax_. Don' go flounderin' about."

"I know that," Lord Switchblade hissed as he grabbed onto the thick branch. He shot her a suspicious glare that she took no notice of, too busy with pulling the ungrateful warlord safely out of the quicksand to bother with him.

It wasn't long before Lord Switchblade was able to clamber onto solid ground again, both rats panting from the experience. The warlord coughed for awhile before turning to face Mangeclaw. "So where's the catch?" he asked, scowling at the horde leader.

"Catch? Wot 'catch'?" she inquired, giving the other rat a puzzled look.

Lord Switchblade raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'what catch'? Aren't you... trying to kill me?"

Mangeclaw stared blankly at the warlord for a few moments before bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "Me?" she managed to say between laughs. "Kill _you_?" Tears ran down her face as the warlord stood above her kneeled figure, his clothes sopping with water and debris, his face one of utter perplexity.

The horde leader settled down, wiping the tears out of her eyes as her laughter gave way to hiccups. "You mean to tell me," Lord Switchblade began uncertainly, "that you _weren't _trying to kill me after all?"

"Nope," Mangeclaw said happily, her reply followed by a small hiccup. "Act'ally, I thought tha' one o' th' other leaders were goin' t' kill me too."

"Me?" Lord Switchblade asked, pointing to himself.

Mangeclaw shook her head. "No, not you, but i' doesn' matter now. All I know for sure is that we've gotta find the other leaders before it's too late."

Lord Switchblade frowned. "'Too late'? Too late for what?"

"No time t' explain," Mangeclaw said, grabbing the warlord by his arm. "All yeh have t' know fer now is t' get movin' an' foller me."

* * *

**A/N: Hurray! After roughly a MONTH I finally managed to finish Chapter Three! Ya-a-a-ay... *pathetic confetti* Anyway, I hope you liked reading from Mangeclaw's point of view! She brings more humor into the story than Lord Switchblade does (as well as Captain Lii and King Kelcross will), I believe. And what did you think of Casper? My genius sister liked him, so I hope you guys did too. :3**

**Also, I am SO proud of myself (xD). This is, quite literally, the longest thing I have ever written (it's roughly 5,429 words! squee!). :DD So yes, a nice big accomplishment for me. ^^ Sorry if it's a bit long, though. :P A lot needed to be covered in this chapter. It could have been longer, if not for the line breaks, but I had to _control _my urge to make this super long. xD**

**So please tell me what you thought of the characters (both new and old) in this chapter? Am I doing an okay job with character diversity? This story has been my first shot at handing out different personalities to characters, so I'd really appreciate some feedback on that. :3 And what did you think of the plot in general? It's supposed to be a bit confusing at the moment (eventually clearing up at the last chapter), but if you spot any realism plot-holes or the like, please notify me of them! Mangeclaw is supposed to be more clever than Switchblade, and I want to make sure I got all my facts right. c:**

**Also, has anyone noticed that Mangeclaw is the only leader without an extra title?**

**We have Captain Lii, King Kelcross, and Lord Switchblade, but I didn't make a leader title for Mangeclaw. xD Not that this is a problem, I just think it's funny.**

**Your friend,**

**Skyler (a.k.a. Cybug)**


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